


The Gingerbread Shacks

by anistarrose



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Christmas, Family Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 14:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17164040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anistarrose/pseuds/anistarrose
Summary: Nothing ignites sibling rivalries like a challenge to replicate a tourist trap in gingerbread.





	The Gingerbread Shacks

**Author's Note:**

> Two fics from me in one day? It's a Christmas miracle!
> 
> Disclaimer: I have not personally tried any of the baking-related things done by characters here, so if you attempt something like this at home, do not expect this fic to predict your results.

“Grunkle Ford, what happened in here?” Dipper asked as he entered the kitchen. “Those dessert pixies didn’t come back again, did they?”

It was a valid question, seeing as nearly every flat surface within an eight-foot radius of Ford was covered in flecks of either frosting, powdered sugar, or both — not to mention Ford himself, whose hair had accumulated so much sugar that the stripe of lighter gray was indistinguishable from the rest.

“Nothing of the sort, don’t worry,” Ford replied cheerfully, his attention staying fixated on the object on the kitchen table as he slathered it with frosting from a Sasquatch-themed bowl. “I’m just making a gingerbread Mystery Shack. See?”

Dipper gave the structure a closer look as Ford pressed cutout gingerbread letters H, A, C, and K into the frosting, and then haphazardly tossed an S onto the tray below. It really was quite a good replica of the Mystery Shack, as long as you looked at it from the right angle to actually notice the boundaries between all the white-coated pieces.

“Is there even any gingerbread in there, or is it all just frosting?” Dipper asked.

“Well, that’s a funny story,” Ford began. “You might have inferred from the general state of this kitchen —” He gestured around, and a plume of powdered sugar escaped to the air from his sleeve. “— that I’ve had to make a few different batches. That’s because the first batch wasn’t stiff enough to hold the gingerbread pieces together at the angles I needed, so I had to increase the sugar content. First I tried to simply mix additional sugar into the frosting I already had, but that didn’t work as well as I’d hoped, so I had to make a new batch, but I knocked that bowl into the sink… you get the idea. It’s been an ordeal. And when I finally made a satisfactory batch, there was already frosting all over the gingerbread from my first attempt, so I decided to make one more bowl full just so I could cover the whole thing in frosting and have it be uniform.”

He pulled out a Jersey Devil-themed bowl, this one full of red, white, and green sprinkles, and declared: “Just one final touch left to include. Stand back!”

He swung the bowl towards the gingerbread Shack like he was going to throw it, stopping at the last moment as sprinkles rained onto the icing and leaving the Shack looking like a Christmas tree had exploded next to it. Then he repeated the procedure on all sides, and poured the leftover sprinkles onto the roof, grinning widely and happily as he gazed at his creation.

“Did you and Mabel swap minds or something?” Dipper asked incredulously. “What… what even prompted you to make this?”

“Well, Melody was talking about how she’d wanted to make a gingerbread Mystery Shack but ran out of time before the holiday,” Ford explained. “Then Stanley said that he could make one, and I expressed skepticism that he could — so now we’re competing to see who can make the better gingerbread Shack. He’s been working on his at the table in the living room, I believe.”

Ford paused for a moment, contemplative. “You know, I really hope he’s not making as much of a mess as I am,” he murmured, as if the thought was just occurring to him.

“Oh, you’re competing with Stan,” Dipper said. “That explains a lot.”

He heard the door to the porch slamming shut, and a moment later, Mabel, Soos, and Melody entered the kitchen, having apparently returned from their run to the grocery store to replenish dwindling hot chocolate supplies.

“Ooh, Grunkle Ford, are you done with your Shack?” Mabel gasped, leaving noticeable footprints on the sugar-coated floor as she rushed up to examine Ford’s creation. “I see you took some artistic liberties, but I like it! Very festive!”

“Artistic liberties are for amateurs who can’t pull off realism!” Stan barked from the other room. “I haven’t even seen Poindexter’s yet, and I know it’s gonna look like a tree threw up on it!”

“I recall you saying something very different about artistic liberties whenever your taxidermy work came up!” Ford shot back.

There was a pause, and then: “You get your smartass remarks in now, Ford, ‘cause once you lay eyes on this masterpiece you’re gonna have no choice but bow down to my mastery of the gingerbread craft! Ugh, my back is killing me —”

Stan staggered into the kitchen, carrying his gingerbread Shack on a blue plastic tray. As everyone moved to the sides of the room to let him get through, a few impressed gasps could be heard — even from Ford himself, though he’d naturally deny it later.

“So? Whaddya think?” Stan’s smug grin was growing wider by the second.

“Set them down next together, so we can judge them!” Soos told him.

Stan did as he was told, and placed down his creation next to Ford’s. While both Shacks had almost exactly the same dimensions, and had featured the letters HACK on a sign with the S down on the tray, the differences ended there. Ford’s was mostly devoid of further detail, but Stan’s had gumdrops and other candies lining almost every edge, and additional gingerbread pieces attached to form triangular windows. There was even a tiny question mark weathervane, though it was held together by toothpicks and the letters WHAT were replaced by gumdrops.

Soos stood between them and held up both his forearms perpendicular to the floor. “Let’s check the Gingerbread-O-Meter…”

On Ford’s side, he turned his arm about forty-five degrees, and then just a bit further extra as Mabel chanted “Go! Go! Go!” and Stan yelled “Hey!”

On Stan’s side, he turned his arm about the same amount in the opposite direction, and then a decent amount further as Dipper and Melody cheered. Ford scowled and raised his hands in exasperation as it became obvious who was in the lead.

“Looks like we have a winner, folks!” Soos declared. “Mr. Pines, you’re the first ever Annual Mystery Shack Gingerbread Bake-Off-A-Thon Extravapalooza Champion!”

“Haha!” Stan cheered. “Eat it, Ford! Except maybe don’t literally eat it, ‘cause —”

“Oh yeah, that reminds me!” Mabel piped up. “Gotta make sure it tastes as good as it looks!” With a surprising amount of effort, she yanked a piece of the roof off of Stan’s gingerbread Shack.

“No, Mabel, wait — please don’t —”

She popped it into her mouth, and her expression lit up as she chewed. “Grunkle Stan, that is _fantastic_! I can’t place all the favors, but I think you might just be a culinary genius as well as an artistic one!”

“Really?” Dipper said. “Let me try some.”

He took a bite from a piece that had fallen loose when Mabel removed hers, and immediately spat it out with so much force that it flew clear across the room and stuck to the wall. After running to the sink and rinsing his mouth, he finally choked out the words:

“Grunkle Stan, did you _glue_ this together? That was nasty!”

Stan gave a slight shrug, arms folded and eyes pointed towards the ceiling. “Uh, maybe. Don’t worry, though, I only buy the nontoxic stuff.”

“Stanley, I _trusted_ you,” Ford told him, voice dripping with the exaggerated drama of feigned betrayal. “And you go and disregard the rules of our competition entirely.”

“Hey, remind me when you said I _couldn’t_ use glue? Oh, that’s right, you didn’t. See, no rules disregarded! I keep track of these things!”

“It was implicitly stated! We agreed to make gingerbread houses, and gingerbread houses are by definition meant to be _edible_ —”

“Glue is edible, you just have to have an open mind!” Mabel chimed in. “Don’t let society’s ideas about food control you!” 

Ford sighed. “You know what, let’s compromise. The two of us can split first place.”

“You guys are the only two who even participated,” Melody pointed out. “If you two tie, there’s no first place. That’s the _only_ place.”

“Yes, but we don’t have to explain the details of the competition to everyone who learns that we’re the first ever Annual Mystery Shack Gingerbread Bake-Off-A-Thon Extravapalooza Co-Champions,” Ford replied. “It sounds rather impressive without context, doesn’t it?”

“Now you’re thinkin’, Sixer!” Stan threw his arm over his brother’s shoulders, and started chanting: “Pines! Pines! Pines!” Ford joined in too, raising a mug of hot chocolate in celebration.

Mabel handed Dipper a frosting-covered piece from Ford’s gingerbread Shack, and started munching on another piece from Stan’s.

“I thought you quit eating glue when you were ten,” Dipper said.

In between bites, she replied: “It was out of season for a while.”

“Out of season for three years? That’s not how seasons work!”

Mabel shrugged. “I dunno. Just don’t tell my orthodontist.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, comments are appreciated as always! Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it, and to those who don’t, hope your day has been great!


End file.
